~ p a r a c h u t e _ d r e a m s ~
i woke up to the scratch of the static,
from the old TV set in our lounge,
crawling under the paper of my skin,
jolting my mind out of the abyss,
that captures our souls every nightand i lay in my bed starin' at the ceiling,
thinking exactly how many dreams
did i gulp down my sore throat
in a rush to forever get rid of them
'cause society won't approve of themwhat if i hadn't devoured them all
and left a few of my parachute dreams
just so i could scream their names
from unknown rooftops in downtown
filled with crowds and city lights?what if someone heard them for once
and thought of them as not so irrational
monologues spoken by a disturbed soul,
as something worthy of some attention,
something that won't waste their time?but how would i know now, how?
for i was way too fast to gulp 'em down
way too quick to even remember
a little fleeting glimpse of them,
my parachute dreams that i lost too soon~ • ~ • ~
~1 9 1 2 1 0
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Poetry#314 in poetry [Aug 19, 2021] "A poet dares be just so clear and no clearer... He unzips the veil from beauty, but does not remove it." ~ E. B. White.